


You Can Build Home Again

by Kagehami



Category: Ozmafia!! (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Romance, Time Travel, the end doesn't exist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7783501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kagehami/pseuds/Kagehami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The storage shed is Fuka's cottage, and thorns grow in her lovely garden. Time Travel. AU. Soh/Fuka fix-it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No

**Author's Note:**

> “You had the power all along, my dear.”

 

 **Author Note: ¯** \\_(ツ)_/¯ No dog-tower-kun. No ghosty epilogue Soh. Fuka is Dorothy and Soh/Totoh is just a loyal doggy who later became Dorothy's familiar after she acquired her witchy powers. 

Welcome to my ending c;

* * *

  
The day Soh dies, no one is able to comfort Fuka.

The atmosphere is heavy, and Kyrie suggests that something needs to be said.

None of the things they can think of really feel appropriate, though.

Caramia knows she is heartsick. The open sorrow on her face when she returned from Karasu-sensei’s clinic with the tiny flower in her palm made something twist terribly inside of him. He is still blaming himself for letting her escape his supervision. He became too excited-- too naive, and placed too much hope in the weight of her decision to join his famiglia to think that she would obediently avoid the Wolf Gang boy and discard her feelings.

He had seen how much the restriction was taxing her. Hated it, and wished she’d forget Soh and his little restaurant cart every time he offered to make her pancakes.

Caramia thinks it probably wasn’t naivety, after all.

It was ignorance; selfishness.

Axel notes the way her anxious tells appear as depressed habits whenever she is called for patrol duty. Her dainty fingers twine and loosen. Her lips press together and her pale eyes become unfocused when they wander the streets on their turf, and he knows by that point it’s useless to keep talking, unless he just wants to listen to himself.

Fuka doesn’t complain at all.

She announces her departure and wears a smile when she leaves the estate with Axel. She laughs at dinner and allows Kyrie to tease her.

But, it’s clear to the men of the Oz famiglia that their only female member is grieving. Things cannot carry on like this.

As her don, Caramia feels that he has erred her. Perhaps, at the time, he had allowed his own feelings to influence a reprimanding that came across too severely. If he had explained himself better, maybe she might not have left the estate.  
.

.

.

Fuka deserves comfort, and...though it may be too late, she also deserves an apology.

* * *

Caramia visits Fuka at the prettily made up storage shed one evening.

It was always rather big for what it was intended for. Now, with the little garden decorating either side in the front, it has a cozy atmosphere. It is almost like a cottage.

The don knocks gently on the door, and Fuka answers after a beat. He takes a look at her face and wonders if he’s woken her up. Her eyes are alert, though, and her greeting is bright when she gestures for him to come in.

He notices the heavy lines under her eyes.

...How much sleep has she been getting?

_How much of her time is spent here awake and crying?_

Worries abound, Caramia adds this to the list of things he wants to discuss with her as he sits in one of the two armchairs they’ve recently brought to the room for occasions like this.

A stove for tea might be possible too, he thinks while having a brief look around. He will have to hear Kyrie’s thoughts on the matter, first.

Fuka sits opposite him, smiles and places her hands in her lap. “It’s quite late, Caramia-san,” she prompts politely when he doesn’t initiate conversation. “Is there something you wanted to speak to me about?”

Caramia takes in her patient expression and the slight slump to her shoulders.

She is very tired, he realizes. He should have waited until morning to do this.

But...no.

This is very important...and it can’t wait any longer.

Caramia sits up a little straighter; clears his throat. Tries to look the part of the don that is his.

But...gently.  _Be gentle._

“There is," he replies slowly. "...Signorina, how have you been feeling lately?”

Discomfort flickers across Fuka’s face. It’s swift, and Caramia is both surprised and disappointed by how well she is able to hide her pain. Her brow creases, her lips twitch and she even goes a little pale, but it all happens in less than a second before she’s smiling at him again.

The only obvious tell is the slight strain in her voice.

Then, when she speaks, the way she avoids his eyes tells him all he needs to know. “I’m feeling alright...”

He is wading into dangerous water. Soh is definitely a sensitive topic, but he must apologize. It has been three weeks, and he must try to help her heal.

Soh is gone.

Caesar is missing.

The Wolf Gang is rumored to have disbanded.

Fuka must let go of this obsession, and...move on.

“Caramia-san?”

“Mm?” the don musses his tangerine-colored hair and looks at Fuka. It seems unlikely that he can fix this on his own, but he is trying to find some magic words-- _anything_ he can say to make things even a little better--

Something warm covers his hand and Caramia jolts out of his thoughts. He glances down and realizes it’s Fuka’s hand covering his own.

When he looks at her, she wraps her fingers around his and squeezes gently. “I’m okay, so please rest. If neither of us gets any sleep, Kyrie-san will probably scold us.”

Caramia laughs softly. “That sounds about right,” he says, but he can’t help the grimace that curls on his lips at the thought of Kyrie coming to his own conclusions about why they might both be so tired in the morning.

The lion allows Fuka to walk him to the door. He thinks she’s quite clever to have talked him out of a discussion tonight, but he has intruded long enough. He will make a point to speak to her properly the following day.

He steps outside and turns back to her; the smile he tries for her feels too bitter and he hates that.

He really needs to say something.  
.

.

.  
“Fuka, I… I’m very sorry.”

_I would like to apologize._

_You have my sincerest sympathy regarding Soh._

“No, I...That is…” Caramia presses a hand against his face and groans. He is usually more articulate than this. None of his feelings are coming across…

“Thank you.”

When he looks up, Fuka is smiling at him.

Indeed, it is a _smile_ ; small but genuine.

“Caramia-san, I appreciate your concern. I’ll try to do better on patrol from now on.”

“Mmm...well,” Caramia relents at last. “Please don’t worry about that…”

He reminds himself that they can try to have this conversation again tomorrow. Maybe he might consider bringing Kyrie along with him.

Or, maybe not.

“I’ll speak to you in the morning, signorina. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight,” Fuka tells him, and then the door to the shed closes gently behind him. Caramia lingers on the step until he hears the lock click, and then heads back to the estate.  
.

.

.  
He should have his thoughts together by tomorrow.

For Fuka’s sake, and for the sake of the future of the Oz famiglia.

* * *

The porch light flicks off after Caramia leaves. Fuka sits alone on the edge of her bed in the dark.

It is a particularly clear night. If she peers at the starry sky through her window and then closes her eyes, she can still feel his whispered confession on her lips; feel the love he professed to her enveloping her on an open field like a warm wind.

Her tears slide down her cheeks, and just like every other night for the past few weeks, her fingers automatically move to wipe them away.

Once it starts, it always seems like it will never stop.

Her chest feels like it’s caving in and her whole body trembles. Sometimes it’s so exhausting just to expel all the sadness inside of her that most nights she ends up falling asleep without any recollection of crawling into bed. She wakes up with blown pupils and tired lines under her eyes and knows that crying doesn’t make her feel better, and it certainly isn’t doing any favors for her appearance.

When she’s finished brushing out her peach-colored hair, she turns away from the vanity mirror, sets the brush down and hears him teasing her gently.

_“That kind of expression doesn’t do anything for your cute looks, Fuka~!”_

_“Are you getting enough sleep?”_

_“Hey, try to smile...Okay?”_

Fuka does smile.

For her famiglia, the men who generously accepted her into their care when she was lost, offered her a place to stay and a job to earn her keep.

For Caesar, who is still nowhere to be found; who must be very lonely without Soh.

For Soh, who still haunts her dreams and leaves impressions in her despairing heart.

Fuka is enduring. She understands the sense of helplessness she feels is part of the process called grieving, but no one ever told her it would last this long; be this painful.

Be this hard.

It’s like something has bloomed and withered too quickly inside of her.

It took everything.

There is hardly anything left.

.

.

.  
Her heart feels so unbearably empty.

* * *

This is not her territory. She is keenly aware of this.

The air is tight and heavy with another kind of magic. It is the kind that can agitate and soothe. Toss tornadoes and make rainbows. Build a home in an empty heart and never desire to leave.

It is new and old, and very powerful.

It is not hers, and that is precisely why she has been avoiding it.

But, she has watched enough suffering; has endured as much as a troubled heart vicariously.

The bricks spiral out, but everything has been sepia since Dorothy closed her eyes.

These colors do not belong here.

She is powerful enough to make it right.  
.

.

.  
And, perhaps that is a sufficient excuse.

She decides it will have to be, because she simply cannot stand this anymore.

Glinda the Good seats herself at the edge of the girl’s bed. Her gown of night and stardust glitters as she leans over and brushes the long strands of hair away from her sleeping face. A crease forms between Fuka’s brows and she mumbles something in her slumber.

The motherly witch looks on sadly.

“Why do you like to play with houses?” she wonders, mystified.

But, surely, none of this was intentional. If she thought it was, even for a moment, she would have declined to interfere.

No one is happy with this outcome, though. That much, she can be certain of.

Glinda spreads her fingers and calls a pale, shimmering blue orb to float in her hands. It is small, but it is the source of magic that lay the very foundation of this make-believe town. Its human shape had been surprisingly difficult to manipulate back into a more appropriate form, but Glinda is a formidable witch and Dorothy’s power is not quite on par.

She admits that there is a lot of potential, however.

The vessel for this gift is expiring where it rests. It is unfortunate, but there is nothing magic can do to prevent the of the end of one’s lifetime...  
.

.

.  
There is only one option, then.

* * *

 

Fuka squints at the soft blue light glowing against her lids, and then slowly opens her eyes.

There’s a beautiful and unfamiliar woman sitting before her. Her kind eyes are a light shade of brown and her long, golden hair is set in soft waves that tumble around her shoulders and down her back. She is dressed in navy and stardust and the elegant crown on her head glitters like it’s made of starlight.

Fuka’s sleepy first impression is that she must still be dreaming.

But the blue light that had woken her up is very real, and it swirls in the woman’s hands.

When Fuka looks at it, she is struck awake with a keen sense of familiarity.

The woman smiles at her knowingly. Her soft laughter is bright and lilting, but not unpleasant; like a bird’s song.

“When I found it, it was searching for you. What a terrible thing, to be separated from a part of one's self...”

Fuka fails to understand. “Who are you?” she asks, rubbing the blurriness of sleep from her eyes. She can’t deny that she is fully conscious now. The objects in her room are coming into focus, but the woman hasn’t disappeared.

The woman purses her lips for a moment, evidently considering. Instead of answering, she replies by asking a question of her own.

“Have you decided?”

Fuka furrows her brow. She turns her face to the exposed shed window and wonders at the incredibly full moon on the blue horizon.

“Decided...? What do you mean?”

The mysterious woman smiles, makes a soft, wistful sort of sound and leans away from Fuka. She doesn’t say anymore, and Fuka stares at the strange sphere of light she holds in her lap. It retains a certain circular shape and seems solid, but when the woman passes her fingers through it, it shudders in response.

Fuka scrutinizes the woman’s appearance once more. She thinks she is almost too beautiful to be real.

“Are you an angel?”

Glinda places a hand over her amused smile and laughs. “Is that what you think of me?”

Fuka tucks her legs closer to herself. “I’m not really sure what to think…” she answers honestly.

“Do you wish for an angel?”

Angels answer prayers and make miracles, Fuka thinks, and she admits that she has been feeling quite hopeless.

Did her sorrow summon the presence of an angel?

Does she wish for one?  
.

.

.  
She thinks she might.

“Then, I think it’s alright if you consider me that way.”

Fuka still doesn’t understand any of this, but she nods. For some reason, she trusts.

“I can’t bring back what you’ve lost forever,” the blonde takes Fuka’s hands in hers. Looks into her eyes and presses her lips together sadly. The strange light hovers obediently at her side and she gestures to it. “However, I can return the gift you’ve abandoned. Remember, and think carefully about what you might do with it.”

Fuka looks at the light. Her pale eyes shine with refreshed curiosity.

“Are you saying this belongs to me?”

“It would insist that _you_ belong to _it_ …” Glinda frowns at the orb, her disapproval of such an idea quite clear. “But, magic should not be possessive. It is the depth of an individual’s strength in the most extraordinary form. To allow power to overshadow your heart and twist your sense of self...That is how bad witches are made.”

Fuka tries to speak, but her mouth has suddenly gone dry.

_Witches…?_

The word echoes inside her head like the pain of a terrible headache.

She closes her eyes and every inch of her skin _feels as though it’s on fire._

_Her hands tremble as a dark discoloration sears up her wrists and spreads across her palms. It fades into a sickly green. Her face, her arms, her legs--everything is that terrible color._

_She crumples. She screams until she chokes and her throat turns raw._  
.

.

.

Fuka gasps.

When she opens her eyes, the woman is still sitting on her bed and holding her hands. She is looking at her pitifully.

She _remembers_.

Her self-isolation--the tower.

Scarecrow.

Lion.

Tin Man.

 _Totoh_.

The hurt and anger glinting in Caesar’s golden eyes. Every one of his persistent footsteps felt like he was trying to smash her apart.

The push and pull--the gravity of his presence. She had been so _frightened_ whenever he gave chase, but when he was near, she felt like she’d rediscovered a lost part of herself.

Only now does she truly understand why she felt that way.

“That fate was never yours.” Glinda tries to console her. “Your fear was unfounded. Whatever kind of witch you are, your actions have been nothing but benevolent. Your magic is deeply hurt by having been abandoned and distrusted, but there is time to reconcile.

“Will you believe in yourself and accept it?”

Fuka shakes her head helplessly. She’s not sure if she can trust herself. She is not even sure if that part of herself will rejoin her. Even if she takes her magic back now, she is a fledgling witch who can only build walls between herself and others.

The town she has built wars with itself. It is not peaceful, it is not happy and she is to blame because she has never been confident enough in her own abilities to leave that kind of impression.

Totoh--Soh--is gone and there is nothing she can do to change that. She should not have left him behind when she wandered away. If she had stayed with him, her familiar would not have left and endangered himself to be with her.

If she hadn't left, the tower would never have stolen him from her.

“What can I possibly do now?” Fuka sobs into her hand. Her eyes are brimming with tears. “I have ruined _everything_...!”

Glinda shakes her head; answers her calmly. “You are a creator as surely as this town is your creation, my dear. But, you are misguided to think that the people you put here aren’t lonely without you. If you desire a home for all that you love, you must include yourself in it.

“You can rebuild, but you must trust yourself and take the advice of this witch with more wisdom,” Glinda gestures and laughs despite herself. “Do you understand?”

Fuka nods. She rubs the tears away from face and looks at the orb of light flickering beside her.

She sees anger, but she also sees fear. She sees hurt, but she also sees hope.

Her fingers reach. She is scared, but hopeful, too.

Fuka hesitates. She flinches as the blue orb darts closer in response to her approach.

.

.

.

Finally, she holds out her palm.

The light eagerly pours inside of her. It wraps around her in beaming wisps, caresses her skin and sinks into her painlessly. Fuka feels like she’s trapped in the fiercest embrace of her life...only from the inside.

And she absolutely understands what it means.

_...I’m sorry, too._

_I missed you, too._

* * *

 Fuka--for ‘Dorothy’ has been gone for some time, she admits--heads for the tower alone.

It is the middle of the night and she rarely sees a soul in the streets, but that is a blessing for what she intends.

When she dismantles the tower, she does not wish for anyone to be around. It was made to detain her, and it will surely not mind risking casualties to resume its duty now that she has decided to permanently vacate it. It will fight her brick and mortar for the magic she has seeped into its foundation to give it life.

But, Fuka will need **all** of her power in order to successfully build a path that will take her back in time.

.

.

.

_“Build a path?”_

_“If it’s your magic, I believe it can be done,”_ Glinda had said. _“But, you will need all of it. You must pull the tower apart brick by brick and build a new path that spirals in the very center of the town. Your must follow the path as precisely as you can and you must_ not _allow anyone to go with you.”_

Glinda had told her that once she reached the very center, she would have to create a door to her intended destination. It would not remain long and she would have to deconstruct it as soon as she found herself on the other side.

It was as simple as that, but…leaving everything behind as it was did not sit right with her.

As she made her way into the heart of the town, Fuka began to think about all that she’d truly be abandoning now.

Her dearest trio of friends. The Grimm, Anderson, and other famiglias. All of the citizens that called this place home.

She had thought she’d been keeping everyone happy until now.

...But, that simply hadn't been the true. It took a broken promise to herself and her people to come to that realization.

If it is possible for her to walk on the path of time, even for just a short distance, she will do everything in her power to build, travel and right her mistakes.

_“The distance you may go depends on your power of will. It is very important that you believe in yourself...Fuka.”_

Fuka stands before the great tower. It hasn’t been more than a few hours since she last saw it, but it feels much, much longer than that.

She can feel the energy crackling around it. It makes her shudder, but she knows she doesn’t have to be afraid.

If she can build walls, she can break them down, too.  
.

.

.  
The young witch lifts her hands; she curls her fingers and tries to coax the first few bricks away from the tower.

It responds almost immediately by lashing back at her with an oppressive wave of energy that almost knocks her to the ground.

It is _very_ angry, and it does intend to reclaim its captive. Not a moment after she regains her balance, she feels it needling her. It’s trying to shred her away from her new vessel and funnel her back between the cracks in its stony walls.

But, Fuka is adamant.

She tries again--this time with more force.

The first few bricks come away with surprising ease. She has a few seconds to revel in her success, and then she has to dodge them when she realizes they are flying toward her with a deadly accuracy.

From there, the tower comes begins to come apart on its own. Its blocks pull away from top to bottom in a whirl of unmarred stone and then begin to circle her.

At first, she wonders if it intends to rebuild itself around her.

When the first three bricks slam into her back, she realizes it’s actually trying to kill her.

Fuka runs.

The tower pursues her vehemently. She expels magic with one hand in great bursts to deflect its violent attacks, and in the other she directs and manipulates them into a spiraling path in the ground as she flees.

.

.

.

The path is only about a fourth done and she is already suffering mild injuries when she hears Scarlet screaming out to her.

The bricks halt as she turns around, and sure enough, she sees his red mantle. The hood is askew on his indigo hair and his mouth and carmine eyes are wide with disbelief. The sniper rifle sits heavily in his small hands, but it seems like he's not sure where to point it.

The tower will target him if he attacks, Fuka realizes.  
  
She acts without thinking. With a wide flick of her wrist, the rifle is forced from Scarlet's grip and goes flying. It skitters several yards across the town center.  
  
Scarlet looks utterly confused--and rightfully _pissed_. He is yelling at her in a way that she has never heard before, demanding to know what she’s doing.

 _“What’s going on?!”_  
  
But there is no time at all.

Just as she intended, the tower has shifted its attention back to her.

Fuka takes off again. She waves her hands in great, desperate arcs, alternating between deflecting and pulling. The bricks slam into the pavement with such force, it is a testament to the power she has poured into them that they don’t burst into rubble on impact.

Scarlet does not interfere again. In fact, she can no longer see him. Other citizens, obviously alerted by Scarlet and the tower’s attacks have started rushing out of their house to discover the source of all the noise.

.

.

.

The path is three fourths complete when Kyrie steps into the town center.

* * *

 

His gloved hand reaches out to grab her forearm right after she dives and slides to avoid a stream of angry bricks drilling right for her side. He turns his hip so subtly to dodge as he pulls her out of the firing line that she can hardly believe it when they don’t decide try for him instead.

The tower watches. It seems to wait and see if the green-haired man is going to be a problem worth eliminating.

“Kyrie-san,” Fuka is nearly out of breath. She smooths the skirt of her dress and checks her bleeding elbow. Watches the tower right back.

When she turns her face to him, Kyrie cracks his bare hand his across it. Fuka is so surprised that she  doesn’t even recoil at the sting to her cheek.

Kyrie is livid.

His visible blue eye is hard and narrow, and there is an odd sheen to it. His jaw is taut, his nose is slightly scrunched and his expression is stricken.

He is mad.

Fuka has never seen him like this before…

But, Dorothy has.

_“You can’t do this… **YOU CAN'T DO THIS!** "_

“Dorothy,” Kyrie grips her shoulders. The tower bricks are orbiting them, but she is the only one that seems to notice.

“...It’s you, isn’t it?” His voice shudders with excitement--or, perhaps rage.

He knows. He _remembers_.

Kyrie searches her face. She doesn’t want to give him anything to confirm what he suspects. It is pointless and cruel. But she has always worn her emotions on her face too plainly.

Kyrie smiles slowly, but his hands are like vices on her.

“It’s you...”

It is too late.

_It’s too late._

Fuka wrenches herself out of Kyrie’s hold and stumbles into a run.

He moves to chase her, but the tower decides it's finally time to interfere. Fuka agonizes over the choices of either sparing him as a target for the swarm of stones, or allowing it to put some distance between them.

She manages to do both for a while, but when Caramia snatches her wrist and yanks her to him so hard her teeth click, she knows she's only been buying the rest of them time to show up.

Caramia looms over her like the great beast she once knew him to be, and he is _terrifying_.

He is shaking.

There is something animal about the shape of his pupils; the way his fingers dig into her arms like claws. There is nothing friendly about him, and that is not how Fuka remembers Caramia.

This is the same face the lion wore when he intended to frighten Dorothy on the day that they met.

She had never admitted to him how close she had come to tears in that particular moment.

“Dorothy…” Caramia’s face contorts. Like Kyrie, his emotions can’t seem to decide on sadness, excitement or rage. He releases her; whines pitifully. Grips his hair in his hands. Then he grabs her again.

Caramia _roars_.

Fuka bursts into tears.

She smacks her palms into his chest, pushes several times until she’s free and then she runs away.

The tower chase resumes. Axel doesn’t even try to speak to her. He uses his shotgun to blast through the tempest of stone now hailing through the town indiscriminately and tails her persistently. The residents cry and flee in confusion and fear.

The tower path is nearly finished.

Kyrie matches her footsteps on the spiral. It’s almost as if he knows what it’s for.

Fuka tosses her hands out and the arched outline of the door appears. It’s just a straight shot; it’s just a few more steps.

But the bricks are all in place now, and there is nothing left to hinder her assailants.

Caramia throws his weight and knocks her off balance. It’s just a glance to the shoulder, but she’s sent tumbling several feet from her destination. Before she can even roll over and get up, he’s wrapping her up in his arms and hoisting her over her shoulder.

“Please! You don’t understand!”

“I think I understand perfectly,” the lion responds shortly, but his voice sounds flat; tired. His arms lock around her like iron bars, and in a moment of sheer desperation, Fuka kicks and screams.

She _has_ to go back.

She has to fix this.

She can’t let them drag her away from the tower path. They don’t deserve what comes next.

The other famiglia have nearly succeeded in quelling the hysteria. However, as Axel and Kyrie make their way over, the ground begins to shake.

A few bricks wriggle themselves free from the path. Caramia reflexively loosens his grip, and that’s when Fuka makes her escape.

They all react so quickly, it is daunting; but Fuka is _desperate_.

Kyrie lunges. Her foot catches his hip and throws him off balance as she’s checked to the ground by a sharp nudge from Caramia’s shoulder. Caramia drops to pin her, but she slams her hands into his chest again and he goes flying into Axel, preempting _his_ attack.

She is crawling by the time she reaches the path. She calls the stones back into the appropriate order and rebuilds the door.

The door glimmers patiently in front of her. The jasper path continues on the other side.

“Please, don’t…” Kyrie is pleading. He strains his voice as he calls out to her. “You can’t do this... _Dorothy!_ ”

Fuka closes her eyes; tries not to imagine her favorite scarecrow with his favorite hat pressed over his face and tears falling onto a yellow brick road.

_“You really can’t do this to me. **I will miss you the most.** ”_

_“I’m sorry,”_ Dorothy whispers; her voice shakes and her eyes burn with tears.

.

.

.

Fuka steps through the door.

“I’m sorry...” she says. “I promise. This is the last time.”


	2. Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuka begins her stroll up the path of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glinda is honorably titled, 'Glinda the Good'. I've read through several arguments and theories that wonder at the legitimacy of such a title, and feel that I kind of agree. I am bending to the possibility that Glinda has some 'grey areas'. In this story, though she might have good intentions, Glinda definitely has something to gain by giving Fuka directions on how to reach the path of time.
> 
> I apologize for the length of this chapter. I intended for them to be around 5,000 words each, but the end seemed like a good place to stop on this one. Expect more very soon.
> 
> Edit 8/29/2016: Fixed some weirdly worded sentences that were bothering me.

_Optional:_ Listen to Jorge Mendez's [Begin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kwSKcNzGn_M).

 

Glinda is a guide; council is her power.

  
Through many, many years, she has ushered the people of Oz out of danger and lent its citizens her ear in their time of need. She knows every inch of history relevant to her world as intimately as a Sea Devil knows its own wickedness.

She is proud of that part of herself. She lets her title precede her, and when she is needed--when she believes she can be of help, she makes an appearance.

That is the face ‘Glinda the Good’ shows Oz.

.

.

.

But in solitude, Glinda reflects on her failures.

There are more than she would like to admit, and she is not sure when she began to err. 

Evanora and Theodora are her biggest regrets. She could not save them from the darkness that lurks in the very small corners of their bright and beautiful world. Somehow, while she had her back turned, they had flown too far away from her and became seduced by immorality.

If she was truly so impressive and _good_ , it would not have taken a house and an ordinary girl from a dreadfully named place like Kansas to see the end of their century-long war. 

Dorothy Gale had not been a witch when she stepped into Oz, but Glinda found her fascinating all on her own. She was weak, frightened and cried for home at every turn in the beginning of her journey. When she often peered at the young girl's face, she was intensely reminded of a sweet and fragile Theodora.

Glinda watched Dorothy grow; watched her laugh, make friends and become intimate with the world of Oz. Her interest evolved into affection as her story progressed, and there were many times where Glinda desired to rescue her from her plights.

But, Glinda did not dare to forget what it was all for. Until her last sister was slain and Oscar the false wizard no longer occupied the emerald throne, she remained vigilant and enigmatic.

.

.

.

Glinda masked her excitement and her horror when Dorothy announced that she would not, in fact, be returning home to Kansas. Oz had become her home, she had said, and Oz was where her new friends were. Though Dorothy insisted she was not ready to join them and claim her new title as a witch of the west, the magic she had acquired after defeating Theodora would ensure that they would never truly be apart. The fledgling witch's dog, Totoh, faithfully stayed by her side on the day she said good-bye to them and sealed the tower doors, and remained with her for many, many more.

Glinda truly pitied the poor thing. Escaping the enchanted confinement had been foolish of Dorothy, but her familiar had taken a serious risk when he made the decision of going after her. 

 _"The tower couldn't kill us to prevent an escape. It wasn't designed that way,"_ Fuka had recalled of the day she'd decided to leave. _"I hadn't planned to be gone for very long, so I didn't tell Totoh what I was up to... I just wanted to see everyone... I wanted to be closer to them."_

_._

_._

_._

_"...It was a mistake. He wasn't powerful enough."_

_._

_._

_"The tower must have sapped too much of his strength when he tried to come after me..."_

* * *

 

The Good Witch is not sure when Dorothy developed her fear of inheriting Theodora's fate.  

The transference of magic simply doesn’t work that way. True, that Glinda sees similarities in the way Theodora and Dorothy passionately weave their spells. They both become incredibly brave as they embrace witchhood, and they fiercely defend what they love and believe in. 

But they have both lived differently. They came from different worlds and endured different hardships.

Theodora was no Dorothy, and Dorothy could never become Theodora.

.

.

.

 _"It's my fault that Soh is dead,"_   Fuka had cried, and Glinda did not try to correct her. She thinks it is good for the young witch to own her mistakes, and prays she will find a way to avoid them altogether on her new journey. 

Glinda and Dorothy are the only witches left in Oz. Only the latter has the power to build miracles.

.

.

Where will she go?

How far will she walk up the path of time?

.

Glinda wonders whether it is far too late to start taking responsibility for her own mistakes.

 

* * *

The door beams and then seals shut in a sequence of bricks behind Fuka. She is left standing on the jasper path that stretches far ahead of her after it disappears.

There is nothing but white and silence around her. There is nowhere to go, but forward.

.

.

.

On her walk, Fuka encounters old memories. Meeting Professor Marvel with Totoh. Her crash-landing into Oz. Earning Theodora’s wrath, and meeting the wizard in Emerald city.

Each recollection is enclosed in a familiar pink bubble, yet somehow they remain in technicolor. Fuka pauses and watches fondly when she encounters her phantom self and a particularly bashful munchkin working up the courage to offer her the biggest and most beautiful sunflower she has ever seen. Scarecrow looks wholly amused and Tin Man’s hand keeps twitching for his trusty axe. When phantom Dorothy accepts the giant flower, she happens to catch Lion’s eye and he smiles at her sweetly.

Fuka walks through the bubble of apparitions and they continue to re-enact the memory, undisturbed.

* * *

 It is said that time is fleeting, but there is so much that happens between hours; between minutes. Looking back on every moment in her life makes her feel like she has lived eternally.

Fuka counts how many times she scolds Scarecrow for being reckless and loses track at around three hundred. She learns to recognize her own fearful expression. Lion's. His brave one.

She sees her phantom self wearing the ruby slippers so many times that she begins to imagine the shape and feeling of them on her feet. Theodora had been so determined to take them away from her, she had become frightened in her certainty that one day she would wake and they would finally be gone, and her own legs would curl up in that gruesome manner.

The Dorothy Gale she is looking at now could never have fathomed this very moment. Until a particularly nasty cyclone swept up her home and took her to a whole new place, she was just an ordinary farm girl from a typical town in Kansas. 

.

.

.

In this new place, Dorothy felt scared and powerless. There were horrors and wonders she had never thought of in her wildest imagination. However, as her adventure unfolded and Oz became _real_ \--neither a frightful nightmare, or a sweet dream--she embraced the friendships she had forged in her trials and eventually forgot to be afraid.

At the end of her journey, Glinda had informed her that she had the power to go home all along. 

In hindsight, Fuka thinks that perhaps she should have been a little more upset with the good witch for neglecting to be clear. 

But, Dorothy no longer desired to return to Kansas. All that she loved and had left now remained in Oz.

.

.

_This place is my home now."_

* * *

Fuka watches herself throw the bucket of water over Theodora. She watches herself recoil in horror as the witch screams in her demise and _cries_ ; curses her. Watches the black clothes crumple over a puddle of dark green goo.

It was the first time Dorothy had ever witnessed something so harrowing. She was thirteen and she had just committed witchicide. There was blood sprayed all over her dress and face from when Theodora had deliquesced. She remembers having stood there in shock for so long that when Lion finally decided to lead her away from the witch’s castle, her pretty red slippers stuck to the stonework floor.

Theodora's scorched broom appears on the path and Fuka almost cries out in fright. She stops to stare at it; an unsettling feeling squirms inside her stomach. 

Dorothy hadn't wanted to be a bad witch. She hadn't want to be a _good_ witch, or any witch at all. No one had forewarned her what defeating Theodora would mean, but by the time the wicked witch's magic crept inside of her, it was already far too late.

.

.

.

Dorothy became afraid of herself.

Several weeks had gone by and word of Theodora's death quickly spread throughout Oz, but the newly designated witch of the west could truly feel no pride in what she'd accomplished. All manner of witches are made, not born, she learned.

 _Bad witches_ are made.

Just like bad people.

Dorothy began to wonder just what had happened to Theodora.

.

.

She wondered if someday she, too, would end up that way.

* * *

Glinda told Fuka that she is a creator. Told her that 'creation' is her gift. 

She's never really tried to understand it. She had been certain that the very first time she used it was going to be the very _last_ time. The town she made was beautiful. It attracted the mortal people of Oz and continued to thrive. Dorothy was so surprised with the result that she had almost felt a little pleased with herself at the time. 

After all, the young witch closed her eyes and slumbered. Her friends seemed at peace and knew nothing of her presence in the tower. She could finally rest without fear of harming them, and they would not have to worry for her.

 _Surely_ , she thought, _this will be enough._

_Surely, everyone will be fine._

_._

_._

_._

Fuka is not sure if creation is really her gift.

Perhaps Glinda is right.

Perhaps she has simply created the wrong things. 

_"...I can return the gift you've abandoned. Remember, and think carefully about what you might do with it."_

_._

_._

_"You can **rebuild**."_

* * *

When the path fades to an end, Fuka stares ahead at the empty white infinite. She is certain this where she is meant to build the entrance to whatever part of the past she intends to return to, but...

She's not really sure where that place is.

.

.

.

Fuka thinks about everything she's seen on her journey here. She reflects on all of the memories she's revisited. 

Theodora.

Her friends.

Oz.

Her beloved town.

Totoh.

.

.

She decides.

The witch calls for the door. It bursts into existence with a spectacular show of light. As she steps through, the path of time quietly winks out. 

.

Her recollections continue to play.


	3. Like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuka revisits the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, not really knowing much about OZMAFIA!!'s Oz'verse, this... Well, let's just say I had some fun in all this uncharted territory! Don't worry too much, though. Not too much deviation from the original story.
> 
> Then, into the past we go~
> 
> Note: I know Elphaba is the WWotW's name in original versions, but I kind of prefer the name Disney gave her.

An apple thumps Fuka on the forehead.

At least, she thinks it's an apple...

But when she opens her eyes, she is lying in the dark on the floor of a smashed up house and there is a thin stream of blood trickling down her temple. Debris is falling freely through a small crack in the ceiling above her.

Fuka touches her hair and instead of loose strands, she feels familiar, braided pigtails. She touches the fabric of her dress and recognizes the blue and white pattern; notices how small her wrists and fingers are.

She’s thirteen again, and she has just lost her family.

She is just a child, but very soon, Oz will be relying on her to defeat the most wicked witch in all their land.

Broken antiques and shattered glass litters the floor. Damaged furniture obstructs whatever areas its been tossed into. Several picture frames once perched on the walls and little end tables throughout her aunt and uncle's home now lie abandoned, crushed and abused by a merciless storm.  
  
The house creaks. It was badly damaged in the cyclone, and she knows she would do well to leave while the roof is still holding, but...

As Fuka sits up, she hears the quick _pitter-patter_ of something approaching the remains of her room. A small shape pauses at the doorway, scoots itself under a broken beam and then trots over to her side.

.

.

.

Totoh tilts his head, flicks an ear and whines softly. The pretty red gems embedded on his blue collar gleam in a rare stream of sunlight.

Fuka presses her hands to her mouth. Her throat constricts so hard it hurts. Her eyes fill with tears and she cries as she scoops up the little champagne dog and holds him in her arms.

.

.

"We'll stay together this time," she whispers, and it is a promise.

Totoh gives her chin a comforting lick.

* * *

'Dorothy' walks out of her ruined house with Totoh tucked under her arm and, just like before, she is greeted by Glinda the Good. The Good Witch informs her that her violent arrival has brought an end to Evanora, an awful witch who sought to hurt her and her people. 

Fuka had never really given much thought to what had happened to the wicked witch of the east. Glinda and her munchkins were so delighted to see Dorothy's house drop on her that her terrified younger self could only comprehend that she had managed to avoid something scary, and that everyone was feeling more grateful for her than suspicious of her.

Now, Fuka can only feel a strange kind of ruefulness when she looks at the striped stockings and ruby shoes. Perhaps Evanora was a bad witch...but it is still terrible to think of how she died. 

The munchkins shower her with gifts and sing her praises. They coax her to join them in song. They encourage her to smile. 

Totoh springs out of her arms and leads her on a playful chase around the little village.

And then, Theodora appears.

* * *

Theodora disrupts the munchkins' merry parade with her acrid black smoke and wicked shrieks. They scatter like frightened animals as she touches down on her broom, and then she stalks them into a full retreat.

Glinda tells Theodora that she has no power in her territory and that she is not welcome, but the witch of the west doesn't hear any of it. She demands to know the owner of the house that killed her sister.

So, Glinda tells her.

.

.

.

Theodora flits over to Fuka in the blink of an eye and sneers into her face. She looks down her crooked nose. Her feet don't quite touch the ground.

Fuka tries to say something. Offering a mere apology to a dangerous witch who is bent on exacting her revenge seems like a foolish idea, but she is seriously considering it when the ruby slippers are suddenly zapped onto her feet. 

Theodora _screeches_.

She is enraged, but Fuka feels a little less terrified as she zips around her, spitting curses and promising to get her.

Promising to get Totoh.

She knows it is empty words, but her old fears still try to seize her.

.

.

Theodora flies off and Fuka holds her companion just a little tighter. 

.

When she says she wants to go home, she is told to follow the yellow brick road, and her adventure begins anew.

* * *

She meets Scarecrow first.

Like before, he earnestly attempts to give her directions on the forked road, but he can't seem to make up his mind.

Incidentally, he tells her that he doesn't have one.

.

.

.

Fuka laughs. 

She tries not to remember Kyrie's hand on her face as she helps him up from the ground. 

Tries not to imagine tears shining in his expressive blue eyes when she turns to look at the byroad.

Instead of waiting for him to ask this time, she tells him she is going to meet a powerful wizard, and that he might receive the brain he desires if he comes along. She knows that the wizard is merely a man, but in one form or another, he had been able to give her companions what they needed at the end.

Scarecrow accepts, and they take one of the roads just past his field.

Totoh trots between them.

* * *

They find Tin Man in the enchanted forest. They just barely get away from the offending--or is it offended? fruit-flinging trees after they have enough apples.

She notes that Scarecrow is actually quite clever for someone who doesn't have a brain.

Tin Man is standing among several tree stumps, holding his axe mid-chop just the way she remembers. They grab his oil can and lubricate his rusted joints. Eventually, he is able to move without a hitch, but instead of thanking them for their help, he coldly insists that their help wasn't needed.

Scarecrow tells her they should have left him to rust, after all. He tugs at her arm and cheerfully insists that they abandon him.

Fuka tells Tin Man about the wizard, and wonders if he might like to join them. Scarecrow is looking for a brain. She says she is looking for a way home. Perhaps, there is something the wizard can do for him, too.

.

.

.

When Tin Man eventually agrees to come with them, Fuka lags behind her companions to hide her smile. 

* * *

Theodora attacks them as they resume their journey to the Emerald city. Her monkeys shriek and psych them. She cackles and makes threats.

Totoh snaps his jaws at her and growls.

When the witch throws a fireball in Scarecrow's direction, Fuka goes to deflect it with her magic.

The fireball hits the ground undeterred and sets the grass aflame. Fuka looks on in horror as her straw friend screams and frantically stamps his feet.

.

.

.

Fuka has gone back in time, she remembers, and Theodora is still alive.

She is not yet a witch. She does not have any power here.

* * *

Lion ambushes them in the jungle, but Fuka is anticipating him. When he leaps out of the trees, she gives him a light smack on the snout. Totoh backs her up with a series of sharp warning barks.

The cowardly animal bursts into tears, curls up on the ground and holds his nose.

"H-how could you do that?!" he wails. "It hurts  _sooo_ much!"

Scarecrow looks on in dismay. "Is he going to be like that for a while?" he wonders, scratching at his chin.

"This is a waste of time," Tin Man decides. He pulls out his rusty axe and lifts it to his shoulder. "He's a threat and this is clearly a ploy to catch us off guard. We should eliminate him and move on."

"Wait," Fuka holds her hand out. She kneels before Lion and pulls out her handkerchief. She gently wipes away his tears and helps him stand on his feet. 

"This lion is actually a cowardly, but good lion," she explains. "He was more afraid of us than we were of him. Isn’t that right?"

The sniffling beast nods his head. Then he cries some more.

"Well, I wasn't afraid, at least..." Tin Man crosses his arms, but the slight tremor in his shoulders gives him away.

"I wasn't afraid!" Scarecrow laughs out from under the brim of his hat. Fuka smiles knowingly and adjusts it so that it’s sitting up right on his head again. She takes Lion's paw and he clings to her side. 

She ignores the way her eyes prick when she recalls the last time Caramia had his arms around her.

.

.

.

"Come with us to see a wizard," she tells him. "Maybe he will give you some courage."

"And a heart for Tin Man," says Scarecrow.

"And a brain for Scarecrow," says Fuka.

"That sounds promising," says Lion, considering. "I feel like I'll be safe if I go with you."

.

.

Tin Man watches the trio walk shoulder to shoulder on the yellow brick road.

He can hardly believe his luck. A little girl, a dog, a talking scarecrow and a pitiful lion.

_Honestly._

.

"...Wait. We're not actually taking this pathetic creature with us, are we?"

* * *

They manage to travel for a while with no further interruptions, but before long, they have run out of apples. Scarecrow suggests “we" scavenge for more food. As it turns out, by “we” he means Tin Man, Lion and Fuka. Scarecrow wanders off, presumably to try and terrorize any nearby crows.

Tin Man reminds her of which berries are only edible to birds.

Lion warns her not to pick the red mushrooms with the polka dots.

Totoh is feeling adventurous.

Fuka has her back turned for all of ten seconds when he disappears and comes back with something wiggling and colorful trapped between his teeth. She can't see what it is at first, but she doesn't have to worry about trying to take it from him by force because he trots right up to her and drops it onto her lap.

Fuka screams.

The live, rainbow-colored fish flops onto the ground as she quickly stands up.

Totoh hunches forward on his front legs, wags his tail excitedly and waits for his rewarding pat.

* * *

Lion cooks several rainbow fish for them over a small fire and they turn out to be quite delicious. She sits under a large tree with thick, gnarled roots and shares her portion with Totoh.

"I'm sorry for screaming so suddenly like that..." she apologizes sincerely, offering him another pinch of her meal. She had been more surprised than afraid when the fish had fallen into her lap. She doesn't remember finding a river with anything edible in it the last time...

.

.

.

The little dog barks cheerfully and shows his teeth. 

Fuka is reminded of Soh's bright smile.

* * *

The wicked witch grabs her as they reach the end of the jungle. Fuka panics as blackened nails latch onto one of her braids and yank her into the trees. She tries to scream, but Theodora clamps a green hand over her mouth.

Her friends continue up the road, Lion holding the basket containing Totoh in his arms. 

She had been at the back of the line, so they fail to notice.

Fuka looks at the witch. Her pale eyes are wide with surprise.

The witch's pointed chin, hooked nose and green skin are her most ghastly features. Her eyes are large and especially dark. Fuka doesn't think they reflect a thing, and that's a little unsettling.

Aside from that, however, she realizes there is nothing incredibly scary about Theodora. 

.

.

.

Theodora scrutinizes the young girl. One of Fuka's braids is still held tightly in her grasp.

"What a strange child," she clicks her tongue; picks at her teeth with a sharp talon. "Scrawny and weak. And stupid, too. What manner of idiot throws themselves in front of a witch's fireball?"

"You attacked my friend..." Fuka insists.

She thinks of escaping, but she can't seem to move. She thinks of trying to scream, but she can't raise her voice to call for help.

Theodora may not look as scary as her older mind recalls, and she knows she is safe as long as the ruby slippers remain on her feet, but her young body is frightened. She is shaking with instinctual fear. 

.

.

Theodora peers at her face; purses her lips in thought.

Then, she scrunches up her long nose at the fish bone necklace Fuka and Scarecrow made together, and says, seemingly in disgust, "...What an obedient little mutt you have. Someday, it shall make a loyal witch's familiar."

Fuka looks at her in wonder.

.

The wicked witch of the west grins a terrible, black-lipped grin. "Now, be forewarned, fool child," she whispers, "for those who cross the likes of this witch get no happy ending. I will get what belongs to me. In one way, or another..."

Theodora disappears in an exploding cloud of soot just as she hears the voices of her companions calling out to her.

* * *

Fuka formulates a plan while she and her companions continue their journey. They are nearing Emerald city, but she knows that it will only be a secure resting stop. The wizard will give them nothing until Theodora is vanquished. 

But, Fuka has been thinking a lot about the wicked witch of the west since their last encounter.

Thinking about Prism Fish, flying monkeys and herbal tea.

She has been wondering if that wicked witch is truly so wicked.

.

.

.

_A gusty rain storm hits._

_Fuka and her friends do their best to continue following the paved yellow road, but for Tin Man's sake, they eventually veer off the path and into the dense woods. Not long after, they find an abandoned cave and decide to rest there for the night._

_They lay in the dark without a fire and try to sleep. Fuka shivers and sneezes until first light._

_._

_._

_In the morning, they duck out of their temporary shelter and find a gracious fire crackling beneath a black iron cauldron. Three mugs are set out on the flat surface of a stone._

_When Fuka carefully lifts the lid, there is a pleasant, herbal smell._

_"What is it?" Lion asks._

_Fuka lifts the ladle and watches a dandelion float around._

**_._ **

_It's tea," she says._

.

.

.

_A panther stalks them as they cross a field of sunflowers._

_It hunches low between the long blades of grass, golden eyes feigning a detached interest as they tip-toe by._

_Watching ever so sharply._

_Lion steps on his own tail and lets out a yelp._

_The big black cat leaps at them with a guttural roar._

_._

_._

_The flying monkeys seem to appear out of nowhere._

_One moment, Scarecrow is leading the panther through the field, waving his arms and laughing as tufts of straw come falling out. He seems to be missing his hat._

_In the next, they come swooping down in the most outlandish flock Fuka has ever seen. They bat their wings and screech at their predator as they lift her and her friends up and away from danger._

_The trio is set safely on the yellow brick road. While Fuka wonders about the incident with Scarecrow, Tin Man endures being poked and screamed at by their little saviors._

_After he is fed up, he crossly shoos the chimps away and they take off into the sky._

_"That was terrifying," says Lion, the ends of his fingers tucked in his mouth. "Let's never do it again."_

**_._ **

To which they all agree _._

.

.

.

 _"What an obedient little mutt you have,"_ Fuka recalls Theodora's odd comment, and then she thinks about the witch and her winged chimp familiars as she sets Totoh in her basket. She thinks about the cold she's just passed, the river and the fish that were never there before; she touches the colorful spherules of her pretty necklace. 

 _Just what does it mean to be 'wicked'?_ she asks herself.

Fuka thinks about the stolen enchanted shoes on her feet and wonders what they meant to Evanora; what they might mean to her sister Theodora, the most wicked witch in all of Oz.

And she thinks, she's not so sure what to think anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't wait to write Emerald city in the next chapter!
> 
> And I can't wait to finally write Soh.


End file.
